Based on a True Story
by hellsingfan101
Summary: "History is always re-written by the victor, My Master. The truth is twisted into what they want to see. It just happens to be that Stoker published his story as horror fiction…" Alucard tells a young Integra Hellsing how the confrontation with Van Helsing really ended through his side of the story.


**Gah, college will be the death of me! I won't rant on but I'll just say I hate it and can't wait to graduate and get the hell out of there. So I'm just finishing some more work on chapter VII in Legacy. So hopefully that should be out in not too long. But I will give you all something to read in the meantime :)  
**

~+*Based on a True Story*+~

_"Pay no attention to the book of the Phantom...  
You have me here, right in front of you."_

_~Erik Destler, Requiem Mask_

It wasn't a startling surprise to see his young Master in the library, even at such a late hour. Most nights Integra stayed up for several hours past when she should have been asleep in her bed like any other human. Walter disapproved of the teenage girl's late-night habit, but she would continue poor sleeping hours for at least ten more years to come.

Though unknown to her or she just pretended he wasn't there, Alucard would glide across the ceiling above her some nights in the form of a single bat with ruby red eyes. He enjoyed watching over the girl, she was the most fascinating of any of his past Masters. An especially curious for her being so young.

However, on this night, he was not following her; this time their paths crossed by accident. He fazed through the wall as his red-clad form oozed into the library. Every shelf was filled to the brim with the spine of a novel of varying size and colors in ordered, alphabetized assortments.

The Nosferatu had no destined quest or tasking but was simply wandering around and through the estate. His inhuman eyes caught a glimmer of light to his right. The source being a small, dimly lit desk lamp-the bulb most likely would have to be changed. It sat upon a small end table, next to a large maroon armchair, a similar chair was positioned on the other side of the table, Audible to his enhanced hearing, Alucard heard the sound of pages flexing back, as the chair's occupant turned a page.

Drawing closer the Romanian noticed a pile of stacked books sharing the small table with the lamp. They were crudely piled atop one another-smaller books placed below larger ones, crookedly stacked, some were even lain lazily half open on the table.

He slouched on one of the chair's wooden arms, looking down at Integra, as the young knight was currently engrossed with her book.

"What harbours my Master's attention?" Alucard asked, smirking with curiosity. She had the book on her lap, making it impossible for the vampire to read the title or author upon the cover.

To his interest Integra let out a slight chuckle as she spoke to him.

"Why don't you take a guess Alucard?" The Hellsing replied, allowing for him to read over her shoulder.

He could see the novel was old, as the pages showed signs of much use, the paper was yellowed and the book's binding upon the spine was fairly worn. He read over the first passage as she turned to a new page.

_Then he spoke to me mockingly, "And so you, like the others, would play your brains against mine. You would help these men to hunt me and frustrate me in my designs! You know now, and they know in part already, and will know in full before long what it is to cross my path. Whilst they played wits against me-against me who commanded nations, and intrigued for them, and fought for them, hundreds of years before they were born-I was countermining them. And you, their best beloved one, are now to me, flesh of my flesh; blood of my blood; kin of my kin; my bountiful wine-press for a while; and shall be later on my companion and my helper."_

Having read just half of the yellowed print he lightly scoffed.

"If Abraham wanted the Irishman to write the story, he could have done better with details," The vampire remarked, lowering himself into the chair opposite Integra's.

"He must have gotten some events to their mark?" She asked him, rather then state it. She continued to read waiting for his answer, as the Count-in the story-forcefully fed his blood to the helpless Mina Harker.

He sighed aloud, releasing an unneeded breath as his lips curled upward in a reminiscent smile

"If you wish to hear the true story from beginning to an end, put aside the old book," Integra had just completed the chapter and allowed her Servant to continue as she placed 'Dracula' upon the wooden table, now holding the weight of eight hardcover books-each containing at least two hundred if not more pages.

"I was curious, about what happened I mean," the knight said to him indicating to the books as he skimmed over some of the titles', picking up two others and examining a page or two, before placing them back on the abused wooden table.

He shot her a toothy grin, "Master, I'm flattered. But if you wanted to know more about me, you need simply ask. Besides literature can twist and reshape facts into fiction." He knew some authors had partaken in a few biographies of his life-or at least human life that is-one was even a half descendant*. Though he was even more impressed with Integra's research on the matter seeing more titles pop-up of other, well known names.

"The legend of a Hungarian bloody countess draining young girls of blood, an Englishman with an unquenchable bloodlust, responsible for hundreds found dead. You've looked into research I see Master." He nodded, he looked to her as she watched him, blue eyes meeting red.

"Well perhaps I am curious, can you enlighten me on the real story behind this legend, Alucard?" She asked, she showed her determination as a Hellsing, but still showed the wonder of an intrigued child.

He laughed lightly, as his coat and sunglasses faded from his features, as he clasped his gloved hands together.

"Well my Master, what would you like to know?"

Within an hour-as the clock hands read 2:35 in the morning, the young Hellsing listened as the vampire properly brought to light what Stoker had attempted to replicate in his book. His background on the Count was half-complete in comparison to Alucard's story, though the businessman's stay in Castle Dracula was much more dire and grisly of what truly transpired. But what Integra kept going through in her head was the finale to this tale.

"Why do you die in the end?" She asked bluntly, watching the red-clad Nosferatu shrug.

"Perhaps if someone, by the off chance, truly believed I was in London committing such atrocities' on humans it would throw off their chase if the monster died. Maybe it was to ease the public; many were unaccustomed to dark literature in those times. All would have rather seen a happy ending for the heroes. Or perhaps Abraham didn't even want to give me the satisfaction of surviving the end of a book, just for the extra salt in the wound of besting me."

He remembered that day, as dawn was coming. He had taken shelter in a gravesite some kilometres from the Castle upon discovering the Dutchman had placed a holy wafer upon the stone coffin he was originally buried in.

So as a precaution if the worst case of his fortress being breached occurred, his gypsy slaves filled several graves in three different cemeteries' with the vampire's native soil. He had thought to rest in a grave for awhile until Van Helsing called off his hunt, or withered into bones and dust in the wind. If he slumbered to that extent, he would rise once more, and with the Englishwoman Mina, bound by his blood, she would have no choice but to forever live and follow him as his slave in eternity.

But this plan of dominating yet another country and kingdom was thwarted when he felt the wooden stake pierce his heart.

"Do you hate us?"

Her question brought him back to the present. Blue irises met red.

"Could you elaborate Master?" He asked, not wishing to admit he wasn't paying attention.

"My family, your Masters. Do you hate the Hellsing's for what we did?"

To Integra's surprise it hadn't taken him more than two seconds before he shook his head.

"No, I do not. And you forget; Abraham was the one who captured and bound me, you nor your father, or grandfather even had a thing to do with it. You just happened to be born into the family, I hold no blame." He continued, as the knight gave him a puzzled look, as she tried reading his face to see if he was lying.

"But, in a way, I'm glad the Dutchman did it. Though the physical pain was fairly uncomfortable, he did indeed tame the monster."

"How do you mean?"

He let out a wide Cheshire smile, "You must have already read about my bloodlust before I even grew fangs. As a human I tortured and maimed thousands, hoisting their corpses on pikes for all to see and fear. When I became a vampire I wreaked chaos and anarchy on my nation I once swore to protect. The book was correct that I had three fledglings and I allowed-even partook-in bloody feedings upon the townspeople.

"Before Van Helsing came into the picture, I turned my back on humans; in my mind they were nothing but a simple meal. And as you can imagine, my arrogance was my downfall. That man that _human_ man aged with frail mortality was able to defeat a creature that could never be killed." He remembered his capture, being dragged away from Transylvania his home and back to that foreign island. Reading up on folklore and deciphering true fact from old wives tale myths, Abraham knew the vampire would be useless without his coffin. True his castle held a large, solid stone sarcophagus-most likely what he was originally buried in-but it appeared untouched for years, if not decades. He managed to get Alucard-Count Dracula at the time-to confess the location of his true resting place.

The humans then carted off the vampire and his black casket and voyaged back to London. The rest was indeed history.

Alucard didn't go into fair amounts of detail, discussing how the ritual binding him to their bloodline took place. It was acceptable for the knight as she soon began nodding off as her eyes tried helplessly to stay open. The vampire smirked.

"I suppose I've kept you up long enough for one night Integra," He chuckled lightly, as the girl finally gave up and closed her eyes. He got up from his chair and moved to hers, as he lifted the teenager into his arms. Bridle style he carried his Master up to her room.

As he approached her quarters and quietly opened the door, Alucard couldn't but remember his later years of servitude. With each passing Master Hellsing it was different. With Abraham, he poked and prodded the vampire experimenting upon him. Though he did show some level of interest in the creature, but still held the upper hand over him. His next Master-the Dutchman's young son at the time-was similar but he was no doctor or philosopher as his father was. But he had a habit of berating questions and queries to the vampire's direction.

When Arthur came around, he used Alucard's as a weapon to his advantage during the war. Be that as it may, it was a casual relationship between Master and Servant. Arthur had a clear view as to whom and what Alucard was and the danger he posed on any in his way. But he was strong, and was able to take on the responsibility of keeping the creature in line. Though he allowed some freedoms for Alucard to his surprise, he was given permission to walk amongt the grounds-if he showed proper behaviour he allowed him to venture into town-with young Walter accompanying him of course, to the teenager's dismay.

But, it was Integra who was the oddest of the four Masters. She showed him more genuine respect. For one as young as her, she upheld her duty as Sir Hellsing, but she was tried and challenged with the Nosferatu discovered in the basement. But she was headstrong as the others were and strong willed, however she did show him some form of compassion. It was one thing all the previous Hellsing's lacked toward him with good reason. But why was she different? Perhaps it was her age, but in a decades time that feeling toward her Servant would remain the same.

Alucard laid the girl gently on her bed and took his leave sinking into the floor. It was still early morning time and the sun still had yet to rise for a few more hours.

"History is always re-written by the victor, My Master," The red-clad vampire said aloud, now walking down to the sublevels. He then seated himself upon his throne within his chamber. "The truth is twisted into what they _want_ to see. It just happens to be that Stoker published his story as horror fiction…"

**Yes I'm putting in footnotes dammit!**

***My quote at the beginning is from a web comic on deaviantART titled Requiem Mask, any Phantom Phans should check it out if you haven't already.  
**

***I own a copy of Dracula-nothing too flashy though, one of the reprints from '09-and copied the passage in italics word for word in my edition. If it's different in yours that's why.  
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***I wouldn't call this a footnote but just something to think about. I personally think it would be doubtful Abraham was Arthur's father, so I included Abe had a son and his son had Arthur. This will also come up in Legacy as well.**


End file.
